Writer’s Block (or sumpin’)

/ wvfurandroot / 1 Comment

I haven’t been able to write these past few weeks, months, years.  It seems that I have nothing to say, but I talk to myself constantly.  Clearly, I have plenty to say, but the tyranny of the blank page is winning.

I’m not sure what my problem is, but it’s as if all my words have dried up and blown away.  I sit down to write and nothing comes out.  Or sometimes, I get drivel.

[Warning:  the following is probably drivel.]

But it’s not drivel I wish to write.  Like many writers, I want to reveal the mysteries of the universe.  Or at the very least entertain with a good story.  It seems I am all out of new stories and I don’t feel like telling the old ones.

I tried to join a writing group tonight.  I got stood up.  Or I misunderstood the time or the place.  Or something.  It struck me that joining a writing group to force me to write was either pitiful or a stroke of genius.  I’m also considering a graduate degree in creative writing.  Also either genius or pitiful.  Perhaps  I need deadlines.  Externally imposed deadlines.  I’m not good at corralling myself.

I need to write.  I’ve often said that I don’t know what I think until I write it out.  The process of putting words in order orders my thoughts in a way that nothing else does.  I need to write.  And I can’t.

This is getting tiresome.

Inertia

/ wvfurandroot / 1 Comment

It’s been rainy and dreary all day.  I’m loving The Polar Vortex in July.

I did nothing today.   I would say “absolutely nothing” except I installed a new roll of paper towel in the kitchen.

lazyI gave myself permission early on to do nothing today.  Generally, when I do this, I get all sorts of things done.  I’m just perverse that way.

But not today.  I  have been the very definition of a couch potato.  I read a little.  I slept a little.  I stalked folks on Facebook.  I danced with the dog.  I ate comfort food (and didn’t clean the kitchen).  I drank two pots of coffee.  I have been worthless.

I think there’s something to be said for taking a day off now and again.  My life has been such that there’s been no end of things needing to be done for decades.  Periodically, I do sit around and do nothing, but I feel antsy and guilty and jittery about it.  Not today.

Today I wallowed in my inertia.  Savored it.  Provided a background of Mozart and a scented coconut candle to enhance it.  I’m still in my pajamas at a quarter to eight.  I haven’t brushed my hair or made the bed.  I have done nothing save unwrap a roll of paper towel and hang it on the wall.

My body is pulsing with endorphins of goodness.  I am blissfully happy with my no good self.  I hope your Saturday was just as rewarding.